


Strange Love

by dxchess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Not Destiel, dean winchester is bi and you will pry that headcanon from my cold dead hands, in which i ignore destiel's maybe canon status bc i'm trash, lizard brain strikes again, maybe - who knows these days, rated E to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27864062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dxchess/pseuds/dxchess
Summary: Daphne was more than sick of motels, the cheap sheets, the smell of chemical cleaning agents, the smell of the last people to occupy the room - sometimes no more than a few moments ago. It was a horrific place to stay, most of the time.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/OFC
Kudos: 3





	Strange Love

**Author's Note:**

> So it's 2020, it's December, destiel was canon a month ago and here I am writing dean/oc content because I listened to one (1) Halsey song and lizard brain struck. Nothing graphic but there are (probably very purple) depictions of sex so proceed at your own risk. Comments are appreciated.

Daphne was more than sick of motels, the cheap sheets, the smell of chemical cleaning agents, the smell of the last people to occupy the room - sometimes no more than a few moments ago. There were nights where they’d pull up to some skeevy roadside dump and Daphne wondered what her chances of sleeping in the impala were, waking up with awful aches and pains be damned, it would certainly be better than whatever the motel had to offer. Salt and demon sigils didn’t keep the out run of the mill whack jobs with big knives who hated women.

For all her complaining and distaste for ‘roadside Americana’ this was the life Daphne had chosen, the man she’d chosen. Though God only knew of all the possible partners in the world Daphne had chosen Dean Winchester, deeply closeted Dean Winchester who was so scared of disappointing his father that he still wouldn’t admit his own attraction to more than one gender years after said father had been dragged to hell in spectacular fashion.

One good thing about staying in seedy motels though was that any sounds that came out of the room would be drowned out by everyone else doing the same thing which meant that if Dean did put a quarter in the bed and grinned at Daphne with his teeth showing no one would come calling to tell them to keep it down. Something neither of them were particularly in the mood to do when things started to heat up.

For all his Casanova man of the world spiel Dean was a surprisingly unadventurous lover, his signature moves being the ‘standard’ Daphne would have expected from a straight man in Dean’s position. Still, that didn’t stop her from teaching him a few things. Something else motels were good for.

This particular evening after Dean had warded the room against the usual menagerie of awful and locked the door to keep humans out Daphne was again on the receiving end of that toothy grin. The raised eyebrow, the low drawl of the word baby which usually Daphne hated since that was normally how Dean referred to his car but in instances like this she couldn’t help but respond and throw inhibitions out the window.

Clothes were discarded in favour of hands on hot skin, lips following lines across bodies, someone’s knees hitting the back of the motel room bed as they toppled down together. Murmurings of sweet nothings and filthy praise when mouths were unoccupied, Dean gripping her hips so tightly Daphne was sure it would bruise as she inflicted wounds of her own which Dean would display with pride come morning when they moved onto the next town, the next job.

It was a life in constant motion, job to job, place to place, saving people, hunting things, the Winchester family business as they put it. It was exactly the sort of life, sort of excitement Daphne had been looking for when she left her conservative southern home and ran off to California for fame and fortune.

They muttered curses into each other's mouths when Dean finally seated himself completely within Daphne, they were joined like this not just by their bodies, it was a much deeper connection than either gave credit for. Daphne raked her nails down Dean’s back, digging them in deep as his body moved atop her own, if anyone wanted to file a noise complaint they were well past time to do so. Dean groaned and grunted with effort while Daphne shouted encouragement, her hand tangling in his hair and yanking his head back making him curse loudly.

Dean Winchester had always projected a certain image, unshakable, dependable, strong and Daphne wanted nothing more than to see that façade crumble around him as he was reduced to his base primal instincts. Daphne herself knew she wasn’t immune from this crashing sensation, the outward appearance of the cool girl, the girl who drank beer and ate burgers and liked her boyfriend's music. No longer the cool girl, now a wildling, red hair matted to sweat slicked skin, pupils blown wide as endorphins flooded her body.

There were occasions when both Daphne and Dean would have the stamina for long long nights together. Limbs tangled together in such a way it was almost impossible to discern one from the other in the heat of the moment. Other times when they clung to one and other in desperation expending all their energy in one fell swoop, holding on tightly to each other terrified to let go, to lose the other.

It had started harmlessly enough. A fling, something to kill time while the Winchesters were on the job. Something to take the edge off a work day for Daphne. They’d parted ways in amicable terms but then the brothers came back and Daphne was glad. She was happy to see Dean again, happy to be included in the job, to be a part of something.

Now here they were, spent and sweaty on a motel bed in the middle of nowhere. Both grinning like fools, hearts beating wildly as they willed themselves to calm down, for their breathing to return to normal.

Neither of them had ever taken the first step and gave word to these feelings they clearly shared for each other but it didn’t feel like something that needed to be spoken. It was a strange kind of love yes but it was theirs.


End file.
